Castle. He pulled out slow and deliberate, like he wanted me to feel the loss of him and the emptiness that followed. And fuck, I did. It gutted me. His warmth, his weight, the pulse of him deep inside—I felt it vanish and I clenched, instinctively, like my body thought it could keep him somehow. But that was just wishful thinking. I stayed on the bed without moving. I didn't want to move yet. My chest was pressed to the mattress, my skin damp with sweat and spit and tears I hadn’t realized had slipped down. The room still smelled like sex—raw, feral, devastating. And still I didn’t move. Maybe if I stayed here, he would change his mind. Maybe he would come back and lie down beside me. Maybe he would wrap his arms around me like I wanted him to. But then his voice broke the silence, and the words he spoke hit me, as if someone had stabbed me in the guts with a jagged knife. “It’s done,” he said flatly. “The earlier you leave, the better it will be for the both of us.” He didn
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